Hi welcome to DISSENTERS VOICE - I am Pete the Poet I post my poems and those of other poets I like, and info about poets, writers, songwriters etc.
The aim of this blog is to present the reader with works and actions of dissenting voices who expose, for example the psychopathic nature of transnational companies and institutions - to reveal their true nature i.e - non-life.
I am supporter of Peace issues, orgs and people. I explore matters related to the Paranormal, the Afterlife, Mediums and Psychic Healing. I am active in exposing the government and media propaganda and publish counter narratives based on facts and scientific research. We don't need politics or religion, just ourselves - take your personal responsibility and RESIST DEFY AND DO NOT COMPLY
Stalking the outer reaches The dark stranger approaches As the knife is plunged The girl is raped Or the old man is robbed A cloak is thrown into the wind.
Create the circus build the frame The dark stranger creates the game “Find the likely party in this For the day will judge for justice” The spittle on the lips fries the veins The guilty are death’s servants.
No hold will stay the axeman’s hand The dark stranger left a last command The moral audience is lively tonight,. As death is the main attraction alright.
Once the night is through daylight prises open heavy eyes the sleep feeling goes it’s as though the mystery of the dark had helped the pen make its mark.
Golden Drops Of rain Forever going down Together they will try
To wet the thoughts again.
Rain Soaking through my shirt Caring with a whisker or warmth The mighty clouds unfold The yet heaviest rains to fall Staining pavements Shifting the dirt Making mud out of dust.
In torrents of road rivers Sweeping away the slithers Of light Creating An artificial night.
Prison cells Full of moving heaving bodies Straps on ankles chains on hands Festive season greetings To solitary souls Grappling in the blank darkness.
Prison smells Fill the head the mind the body Memories scratched into the years Say Merry Christmas To those tortured Bruised and mutilated prisoner.
Prison hells Fill me with revulsion Cruelty beyond imagining or reason My personal greeting To those imprisoned Is to the guards and officers.
Prison cells Resounding to cries and shouts Of those who want to get out No more Christmases In a living HMP hell Only pity guilt and resignation.
Prison bells Remind us all of the discomforts there Bare bed bare walls bare faces bare My Christmas message Treat them with dignity Leave off your Middles Ages cruelty.
Golden Eagle (Aquila chrysaetos), in flight in mountain habitat
Spread wings hanging in thermal whirls The lucky eagle glides towards its prey I sneak another purposeful look As I reach for a handful of mountain spray Clutching their stems I sniffed a nose of colour The scented flowers raised my expectant ardour Like magic eagle wings that glide together Passion was sliding always towards the inner Most parts; where secrets are never too far away.
In the depths of a morning mist A creeping fog of uncertainty exists, As the day lurches to a new beginning Stars wave goodbye until next evening Birds are pushing out the song of songs Knowing, only, the world in its wrong Can do wonders to make you feel strong “Play for me the misty song of life” You can hear the church bells ring You nearer to important remembering Its your genetic expanding history Clicks on your centuries old memory Trees scrape the sky, the leaves are singing.
I’m in a panic but I don’t know what it’s about Sinking deeper into stress I only want to shout But why bother there is no one who wants to hear, The panic at times is more than I can really bear. I cling to the side walls as I descend into a well My fingernails all torn my hands begin to swell I listen to the panic closely but that is no use at all For it goes on without me being able to stall. Blind panic scoring across my arms as blood oozes The cuts I can’t feel I only hear the dull excuses.
When did the panics start asks the counsellor How the heck do I know they did just show it’s no use talking this thing out to anyone They have their own panic for someone They love, but they keep the lid on tightly To avoid the panic rising up in intensity. Is panic born of not knowing who I am, It would make sense if I was able to cram More minutes into each hour everyday, This panic is here solidly it won’t go away.
When opening the door to reality, the stars seem to shine brighter And the weight of the world’s worries became lighter For the open door looks outwards and inwards To a place where time stands still To a moment where movement is all but nil.
Opening the door to let the sun-reality stream into the mind Isn’t an excursion into a new religion, you’ll find, Hymns aren’t necessary nor are prayers For the opening door ignores the worshipping crowds For the reality, when the thoughts fly easily are allowed.
When opening the door we can hold hands with the past Speak to our relatives who passed through this doorway For the opening door leads us on eventually to explore Our inner spaces as intrepid explorers discover the new world Our inner silences can drown out the illusion we know only too well.
Opening the door bestows a responsibility on all who gaze beyond For the reality is there to be explained, to be, at last, known Ignore the scenes what is behind the opening door You will live as a lizard scratching the bare floor With only a boulder to rely on, for comfort and love.
I open the door on to the reality which wants us to know We can tune in, if we want to, if we can only become slow Expanding awareness a thousand fold Gazing as the door opens still wider, I see the gold That lies hidden in the hearts and minds of everyone’s soul.
Behind the opening door cosmic awareness Becomes like a gigantic puzzle As each piece connects with a larger piece That connects with the whole that lives inside us all.
Violet indigo blue green yellow orange and red Streams the colours as they shine in my head A spectrum of truth That shines upon the path Leading through the opening door Leading on to where the love is more. Real than each dawning day More real than anyone could ever say.
You may find your pot of gold In the rainbow heart You feel as you become a part Of the universe that is you and within you That love is you and you are love Not at any time will you despair Having opened the door with such care.
Once the door becomes a glittering show of reality It will fade away into infinity Your heart will join with your head As you wave to all the people who are dead, Listen to their laments and advice The door stays open – so should your mind.
I feel like I’ve ascended a tall stairway I have almost neared the end…
Having found the top A dark wooden trap door made me stop. With little hesitation A mighty tug and push It opened – light in volumes poured in.
I closed the door rapidly For the light was escaping.
Reaching down again and closing my eyes I pushed open the trap door, it was prised A blue sky fell in along with song The darkness was passing For light is the final prize.
Keeping out of the hole in the ground I could see for miles around The world was overwhelmed with sound.
A scene whose backdrop became centre stage Animals with purpose, trees with great age When participating with the human race.
Having escaped the gaping hole I climbed to a high precipice, I perched precariously upon a ledge Not knowing whether to go up or down … or to live close to the edge.
For we are nuts in May What more can I say? For it has all been said before It isn’t some unwritten law But why should I bore All those whose poetry Repeats the god-like words Of all the poets that have gone before And after
What laughter What joy does the scribbling pen bring Makes my heart leap – makes me want to sing What sorrow And deep depressing brow I could bring But such is life The unending strife I have a paint brush in my hand I mean to colour the dreary old land Banish the darkness From whence it came I shall shove the dankness Back into its cave.
I’ll leave the audience to rave Over the bloodied spoils of war You can lift the charred bodies From the floor In front of the electric chair You can explain to the wives Why their soldier husband can’t be here You can listen to the aborted If only you would dare I’ll write rhythms and songs For I don’t belong Ina world where Everyone is running scared.
DISSENTERS VOICE 